


A Consequence of Winning

by orphan_account



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Speed Skating RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-23
Updated: 2010-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex Pollen.  After Apolo and Evan kiss their Olympic medals, they are struck with the debilitating desire for sex with JR and Johnny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Consequence of Winning

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's wintergameskink meme for a prompt requesting JR/Apolo or Johnny/Evan sex pollen.
> 
> Unbetad! Sorry!

Evan Lysacek was pretty sure he was going crazy. He had just had the most insane, surreal, momentous event of his life—A FUCKING GOLD MEDAL—and instead of being able to enjoy the interviews, the attention, the pay off for all of his work, the culmination of his branding, all could think about was Johnny fucking Weir. And fucking Johnny Weir. Both. Whatever. One minute, he was standing on the podium—THE TOP OF THE PODIUM—waving at the crowd, enjoying the weight around his neck, the weight of glory, and then, like every other Olympian, he held it to his lips and kissed it. As he let it settle against his chest, he licked his lips.

Then, without warning, like some kind of horrible, horrible hallucination, all he could see was Johnny, and in ways he NEVER had seen Johnny. Johnny's thin frame pressing him against a wall, sucking his neck, pressing him against a bed, sucking his cock, pressing his legs to his chest, Johnny Weir's cock in him. He couldn't even see the flag. Later his publicist had congratulated him on thinking to place his hand over his heart for the anthem—what a perfect PR move, SO Evan Lysacek to be an all-American patriot. In reality it had been a reflex, grabbing at his heart, which had suddenly felt like it was about to beat out of his chest.

Then at the pinnacle of his career, when he should have been reveling in the limelight, he was so distracted by the barrage of new thoughts and feelings and images that he could only rely on his old press training in the interviews. Say as little as possible while seeming to answer everything. Smile. Be polite. Thank people. After worlds, his publicist had been in a frenzy getting Olympic press ready and had drilled him on every possible question and how to come back to the same points, had made up some cutesy one-liners to draw chuckles from the interviewers. She already had created the package, and while it was constraining, Evan was grateful for it because all he had to be was the package, and no one noticed the man was missing, in a daze, lost to a whirlwind of craving Johnny Weir's eyes and lips and hands and prick and fighting against it, trying to figure out how to get rid of it. They just saw the image, heard the words, and bought the product.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~

He's pretty sure it's not a poison. It might be a drug. Apolo has been drug tested for most of his life, so he really isn't sure what the effects of different drugs are, but he's never really heard of something like this, so maybe drugs are ruled out too. That still doesn't explain what has happened to him, or what to do, or who to talk to. His father is out—how could anyone possibly go to their own father and say they think they've been given some foreign substance that has sent him into an uncontrollable and growing lust-craze? He would usually talk to JR. In this case, he's pretty sure that's probably not a good idea.

He's not sure the medal was worth this. It feels like blasphemy to doubt that an Olympic medal is worth everything, I mean, his life has been dedicated to winning. The pain--his injuries, fuck, JR's injury, as terrifying as it was—seemed worth it to win this medal. But you can take medicine for pain, there are doctors for injuries. Hell, he even has a sports psychologist (NOT Stephen Colbert….though holy shit, if there were gold medals for TV, that guy should get one) to help him train mentally, let nothing throw off his racing, talk through his doubts so they are never with him on the ice, but while Dr. Stephens is a nice guy and very good at his job, he is not the man to start unloading to about this irrational and suddenly overwhelming desire.

God, JR. Ever since the medal ceremony when Apolo was first overcome with this….well, with this whatever, Apolo had been avoiding him, lest he be unable to control himself and just attack JR, ripping his clothes off and begin mapping out that unbearably sensual tattoo with his hands and mouth. JR had definitely noticed, I mean, he had probably thought Apolo would want them to celebrate together somehow, even though with so much racing left, they wouldn't really be able to eat or drink or even have enough down time to do much more than simply be with one another and absorb each other's good mood. Of course, that presupposed Apolo could be within ten feet of JR without his pulse racing and his hands twitching, and BE in anything other than this insane conflicted jittery mood. This wasn't just attraction—he knew that, because he knew what being just attracted to JR felt like—this was some kind of unendurable madness. But neither could he endure the hurt looks JR kept shooting him, looking like some kind of kicked puppy with those huge expressive eyes. JR was such an open book, furrowed brow of concentration, bright easy smile of happiness, thin tight lips of anger, shy fluttering lashes of uncertainty and now this hurt. There was nothing for it. He had to talk to JR. JR was the only one who would believe this, and he knew that if he couldn't control himself, JR would forgive him and would understand him.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evan had barely slept in three days. With the pre-performance endorphins and adrenaline, he hadn't slept much in the preceding week. The only rest he got, weirdly enough, was in the shower. Naked, with hot water and soap running down his body, he could just be alone and himself and try to figure out this problem. Even alone in his own room, he wasn't really himself. The clothes in his luggage had been picked out for him, bearing the logos of his sponsors, picked out to go with his image. He had drawn the line at letting his agent pick his shampoo and body wash, although she had argued that a sponsorship from Old Spice could be the linchpin of his longterm success as a marketable product, the relatable man's man figure skater. But Evan had refused to pursue it, wanting to have something of his own, even if it was just soap.

So here, in the shower, with nothing but his body and his soap he could think about what he, Evan, was going to do about this insane Johnny Weir obsession. He leaned his head against the shower wall. He was getting used to thinking on top of the constant barrage of Johnny in his head, but it was also wearing him down. He still couldn't figure it out, and he had told no one. Any easy decision, he didn't have anyone to tell. He didn't have friends, he had a coach, handlers, a publicist, an agent, a personal trainer, a nutritionist, someone to see to every aspect of his life but no one he really talked to about his personal feelings. Usually because he kept to himself, preferring to think things over while running or doing yoga, carefully consider how to proceed in one area or another, come to decisions and then give them to people.

And now he was alone, in his shower, with some kind of strangely tainted medal in the other room and Johnny Weir in his head. Why Johnny Weir? He had never understood Johnny, even when he had watched his programs until he could see them with his eyes closed, trying to analyze Johnny's skating. He had never really even respected Johnny, the skater with so much more natural brilliance then himself (here, in the private of his shower, he could think that) but who refused to train up to his full potential, gallivanting across magazine spreads instead of spending more time on the ice, who struggled to afford the best training and choreography because he couldn't keep his mouth shut and refrain from alienating any major corporation that might want to sponsor him. He smacked the wall before trying to shrug some of the tension out of his shoulders and turning off the water and wiping his face. Standing alone in the steam with nothing but the drip of the faucet he had to decide what to do. He pulled open the curtain and was faced with a blurry image of himself in the steamy mirror. Sometimes in the blink of an eye you see something that seems too real and detailed to be imaginary or impossible to capture in a split second, and in a moment like that Evan swore that behind his own slender body and haunted face he saw an even thinner (seriously, that guy was, like, EMACIATED) Johnny behind him, wrapping his arms around Evan's chest with a possessive glint in his eyes. Evan shivered so hard that even in the hot bathroom he broke out in goosebumps and his nipples tightened, almost painfully considering that during the earlier part of the shower they had received some none-to-gentle attention in a fit of desperate masturbatory release. This couldn't be real. How could this be happening? Evan had made a career out of being in absolute control, training impossibly long hours, being impossibly good natured, never breaking character from Evan Lysacek ™ but he wasn't sure he could survive much more of this. Could he really just go back to LA and go through the motions? Watch Johnny compete at Worlds, that too-thin body spinning and jumping and just impartially critique? What if these feelings didn't go away, and that ghostly face and touch followed him? Could he bear it? But what else was there to do? He barely had spoken more than two words to Johnny in the past few years, what was he supposed to do? Knock on his condo door (and God forbid, run into Tanith?) and fucking ask him to fuck him? How do you complain to a near stranger that you've been possessed by the sudden desire to have their hands all over your body, to have their mouth scraping across your own jutting clavicle and hip, that you want to leave fingerprint bruise in their hairline? If only this had happened to someone he liked….if only he knew anyone well enough to like someone. Shit. To do nothing was unbearable. To do something….might be salvific. Or humiliating. Or both. He firmly wiped the steam off the window and looked at himself, alone, naked, nothing but his soap to call his own.

Evan was fucked.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Apolo had nerves of steel. He never lost his cool. He yawned at competitions to psych other competitors out. He mastered mindgames, never let anyone fuck with his concentration. And he was shaking standing outside JR Celski's door. He was Apolo Anton fucking Ohno, this kid was his friend, his confidante, his cheerful, sweet, tough JR, and he knew JR loved him, but this was just too fucking weird, and although he was attracted, and he was pretty sure JR still had a touch of a starstruck crush, they had never been intimate like Apolo's feverish brain was imagining now, he had never seen JR's eyes roll back in pleasure, had never tasted his skin or even touched his scar, had never licked every speck of ink on his chest, laving the nipple mixed in with tenderness, had never searched out his prostate with questing fingers or cock the way he wanted to with every fiber of his being this second.

He knocked on the door; JR answered. He took in Apolo's appearance, it was the most upset he had ever seen him, although to the unknowing eye Apolo probably just looked a bit distracted. But JR knew Apolo, knew that he kept his emotions carefully controlled—sure Apolo seemed carefree or focused or happy or sad, but only because he let those emotions show. And right now Apolo was suppressing something strong, something JR knew had been eating away at him because usually Apolo would have been having lunch with him, asking if he'd been taking that stupid supplement, ruffling his hair, and bitching with him about their DQs. Instead, he has been stealing hunted looks at JR for the past couple days as if JR was some kind of predator about to spring a trap. Which was ridiculous. Apolo was a predator, he was the one who was in control, waiting for the moment to make his move. In contrast, JR skated like something joyful and free and exuberant, rather than with the ferocity Apolo displayed.

Realizing he had been staring, JR invited him into his little condo. He was wearing track pants and a t-shirt, barefooted before getting ready for the day. He had just poured some juice.

"I just was making breakfast, want anything? Poached eggs? Juice?" JR asked, trying to be normal, figure out what was going on.

"Uh, yeah, juice is fine, if you've got that multi-grain toast, I might have that with peanut butter. I just ran." Apolo replied, as if his clothes didn't give that away.

JR made the toasted, poached the eggs, poured the juice while Apolo tracked him with his eyes from the table, saying nothing while JR kept up a stream of slightly nervous chitchat—he had met Michael Phelps, his brother's regiment wanted some maple leaf mittens, though what they would do with them in the desert, he didn't know, Zamboni problems at the track. Finally he sat down across from Apolo and pushed the plate at him. Apolo picked up the toast and inspected it, but didn't take a bite.

Still staring at the toast, he started talking. "Something's wrong with me. I don't know what it is. Like, I know what is wrong with me, I just don't know why. I mean, I know WHY, there was something on my gold medal, but I don't know what it was, and I don't know how it caused these problems, and I didn't know who to talk to, and you're the one I talk to, but you're part of it all, and I think I'm going crazy."

JR just stared at him, baffled. Apolo glanced up to meet his confused expression and sighed.

"I kissed my medal. There was something on it, some lotion or powder, I don't know. I licked my lips, and suddenly all I could think about was you, wanting to have sex with you, wanting you in some bizarre, freaky way that I have never wanted you before—" Apolo had been maintaining eyecontact the whole time and he saw JR's expression falter for just a second at that, "—I mean, I've wanted you before JR, I think you know that, I think we both know that, but not like this, not this all-consuming desire to possess you, wanting to make you absolutely mine, this just goes beyond what real people FEEL."

JR looked uncertain, and Apolo dropped the toast and ran a hand through his hair.

"JR, I'm serious. Something is WRONG with me."

Apolo looked so serious, so worried, that JR reached across for his hand without even thinking about it. As soon as he touched his skin, he gasped as Apolo screamed out "DON'T TOUCH ME!" At that fleeting contact, JR had gotten a glimpse of Apolo's mental state, the confusion, the urgency, the pent up desire, and through it all he had seen what Apolo was talking about, seen what Apolo had—their bodies together, naked, sweating, pressed passionately together.

Apolo looked at him in shock. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell, it just got so much worse, like I wouldn't be able to even control myself from jumping across the table…I can't stop this. But I can't hurt you, and I can't use you." JR saw the sincerity—that Apolo needed to share this, but would do his best not to act on it if JR didn't want it. He was still a bit dazed just from the touch—he had no idea how Apolo had been dealing with this for days—and he took a deep breath.

He met Apolo's eyes. "I think I can help."  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Knocking at the door of another condo, Evan couldn't decide which would be worse—Johnny answering the door, Tanith answering the door, or no one answering the door. Neither would be happy to see him, and no one being there wouldn't help him. God he was selfish. Imposing his presence on the two people in the Village who REALLY wouldn't want to see him because he couldn't handle the thought of handling this alone. The door opened, and it was Tanith. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What do you want?" She demanded, her small body blocking the even smaller opening in the door.

"Um, I needed to talk to Johnny." Evan cringed inwardly. He never had come to see Johnny Weir in his life, and Tanith knew it.

After a pause she replied "well, that's too bad, he's not here. He wanted to track down some mittens, he thought they would be a popular kitsch item back in Jersey."

Evan hesitated. Should he just talk to Tanith? They had been over for ages, but she had known him a long time, and it wasn't like lots of people knew him better. Should he leave a message with her? "Umm. Do you know when he'll be back? Could I wait for him?" Well, that sounded lame. Nothing was more likely to arouse suspicion than a totally not-casual and extraordinary visit to Johnny, especially one that was so pressing a gold medalist with a legion of interviews to do would sit around waiting for.

Tanith paused a trifle too long before replying "I'm not really sure, and I was about to leave, so I don't think that's a good idea."

Evan might not be a genius but he wasn't stupid either. "You're lying. He's here, isn't he?"

Her eyes betrayed her by flicking to the left. "He. Is. Out." She said, not giving an inch.

Before he could even think about what he was doing Evan just yelled "JOHNNY! JOHNNY!" at the top of his lungs in Tanith's face, making her flinch, eyes shutting at the sudden force of air and noise, but also making her lose her position at the door. While she was still a bit taken aback, he pushed past her into a room completely different from his own Spartan room, which he had left undecorated. The living room had candles artfully arranged on a coffee table, next to a beautiful sofa with an Audrey Hepburn poster above it. Tanith had regained herself and was now yelling at him, but he didn't hear it, because Johnny had just appeared from the hall, obviously drawn by the shouting.

Evan just stared at him, unable to think anything except how being here in front of Johnny made it so much worse, seeing his beautiful skin, pale in stark contrast to his red lips, in contrast to the dark circles under his eyes. In Evan's mind's eye, Johnny hadn't looked this tired, this guarded, lacking in vitality, and yet at the same time, that Johnny wasn't flesh and blood, didn't have the expressive face and body of the real Johnny, who still hadn't said anything.

Tanith still looked pissed, and shot him an awful glance before turning to Johnny. "He wants to talk to you, not me, and I told him neither of us wanted to see him, but he forced his way in. I was on my way out, sorry to leave you with the golden prick." She grabbed her purse and slammed the door behind her, leaving Evan still staring stupidly at Johnny, both of them standing awkwardly in the foyer. Well, Johnny didn't look awkward, he managed to always look so fucking in charge of every situation, even this, a totally unprecedented social call from a rival. A small part of Evan's brain wondered how he even knew that, but the larger part was screaming at him to reach out to Johnny, to push his hands into the v of his robe.

Finally Johnny spoke, "Tanith said you came to see me, you've seen me, and if you came to talk to me, you should talk because otherwise, I'm going back to drafting my press statement and you should go back to being an American fucking hero."

Evan still was at a loss for words. He had no idea why he was here. He couldn't just ask Johnny for sex (could he? Probably not.), and he couldn't leave. He opened his mouth and then closed it again while Johnny looked at him expectantly, some of the vitality back in his face as he studied Evan, eyes curious, but expression carefully bored.

"well, you came in the door I'm sure you can exit that way too, I'm going to my room." Johnny turned to walk back down the little hallway.

"Wait!" Evan gasped, finally finding his words again. Johnny turned back to face him, looking now both curious and exasperated. "Um. I've been thinking about you. And…I needed to come here and tell you." Evan knew he sounded ridiculous. He was ridiculous. Suddenly he felt like he was about to shatter. He couldn't get a single unscripted line out of his mouth, no one had taught him how to maneuver gracefully through this conversation, and he didn't even know what he wanted (okay, he wanted Johnny to fuck him and mark him and WANT him but he didn't know why) and he didn't have a plan and he could feel his facing flushing with embarrassment and OH GOD he could feel tears prickling in his eyes. For all that he was wishing away these unwanted reactions, they apparently convinced Johnny that he was serious.

"Well, why don't you sit on the couch and make yourself comfortable." Johnny replied, seemingly unfazed by Evan's stuttering declaration and obvious discomfort. He turned towards the living room, then went past it to the kitchen, his lithe gait drawing Evan's eye down to his ass as he followed. Evan sat on the couch. There was a Vogue on the coffee table and he picked it up as Johnny went in the other room, trying to get his hands to stop trembling. Johnny reappeared with two bright red drinks as Evan flipped it open.

"Wearing Vera has given you a taste for haute couture now?" Johnny asked in a snide voice, setting one of the drinks on a coaster in front of Evan.

Evan didn't even know what that meant. "Um, it was just here and I was looking at it" he said stating what Johnny obviously already knew.

Although Johnny could not be said to be known for his compassion or for suffering fools, he seemed to take pity on Evan and went on. "Pomegranate juice. Galina squeezes me gallons of it. I don't even know how she smuggles fruit through customs, but she always manages to bring them along, she never trusts that she'll be able to find them, although it's not like Vancouver is exactly the end of the earth. The end of the world for me, maybe, but still part of civilization." He ended tartly, and sipped his drink.

The brisk tone of Johnny's voice, his languid air, his correct posture in the ridiculously uncomfortable looking chair across on the far side of the table, his command of the space, of language, of his own situation, when Evan felt like he was struggling to know which way was up and how to speak, seemed to ground him just a bit and he sat up straighter and took the glass.

He took a sip (how did Johnny drink this? It was gross…and Evan should know, he drank wheatgrass and protein) and quickly put the glass back, before wiping his palms firmly against his thighs, taking a deep breath and beginning, "Um. Something was wrong with my medal. I don't know what, but I kissed it and something happened to me, and I know this is going to sound, like, totally freaky but from that moment you are the only thing I can think about." He paused, looking Johnny square in the eye, and leaning forward with his forearms on his knees and hands clasped. "I don't know what you think about me, okay, I know you probably don't think about me all that much and it probably isn't good whatever you think, but my point is I don't usually think about you either. I mean, I think about you to wonder what your program will be like or whatever, but I don't think about you as a person, I don't wonder about your day or whether I'll see you or what you look like when you come—" Evan cut himself off, horrified that he had let that slip. Johnny looked somewhere between upset, amused, and bewildered. Even that looked sexy to him—SHIT he has just put his foot in his mouth. Before Johnny could retort Evan rushed to speak again "I know, I can't believe I just said that either, but I did, and it's true, and ever since I won that gold, it's all I can think about, I see you behind my eyelids when I'm trying to sleep, I see you around every corner, all these people keep asking me about how wonderful this whole thing is and all I can think about is how I've suddenly become obsessed with you and what to do about it."

Evan had seen Johnny upset—even broken down crying upset—but Johnny always seemed to know what he was feeling and able to express it. He had never seen Johnny look so much like he didn't know what to think or feel.

"You, Evan Lysacek, after winning a gold medal at the Olympics are suddenly and inexplicably obsessed with me?" Johnny asked. Evan nodded. "So much so that you came knocking on my door, caused a scene in the hallway, pushed around my roommate, and decided to make a fool of yourself by telling me this?" Evan nodded again, feeling the blush returning as it sunk in exactly how foolish he looked, how horrible this whole story would sound to absolutely ANYONE.

Johnny seemed to settle on feeling magnanimous, because he resituated himself in the chair, schooled his face to look dispassionate and said, "so. Tell me about this obsession."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Apolo let out a sigh of relief. Thank God. JR was going to listen. He was going to help him figure this out. He wasn't going to make the process agony. He should've known. JR was so laid back, so willing to make the best of things.

"So what do you think? Should I talk to the IOC? How would I explain this? What do I do in the meantime?" Apolo has his game face on now. Having JR believing him, on his side, is a huge weight off his shoulders, and as long as he can keep his hands to himself, they'll be fine, they can have time later to process this awkward admission of normal-level attraction. Then he met JR's eyes, and what he sees in them is not a desire to help. It's just desire. And it's apparently aimed at him. "Oh no. I've infected you somehow. I have to leave. We can't be near each other. Maybe we should call my dad after all. FUCK." He stood up, backing away from the table, away from that tantalizing glint.

"Apolo, stop it. I'm not 'infected' I just….I saw into your head for just a second, when we touched. And maybe this isn't how we would have wanted to get together, maybe this isn't even officially getting together, I'm not sure what we are, and obviously you aren't either. But just because I haven't weighed out whether or not it's a good idea, whether or not we should go for it, doesn't mean that I'm not attracted to you. I am. I am very attracted to you." Suddenly JR did feel like Apolo was a hunted animal, but he wasn't a predator. He was a tamer, moving slowly, not making sudden motions, not scaring Apolo. "If we can solve this by having sex, without the IOC, and especially without your dad, then we should try it." He was within armsreach of Apolo now, and he held his chin up. "I'm here. I consent. I can help you, if this is the solution you want."

Indecision flickered in Apolo's eyes. He wanted JR so badly that his entire body seemed to be drawn to him, but he knew that once he touched him he wouldn't be able to stop, nothing would stop him from fulfilling this crushing need, nothing would stand between him and every fantasy, every dirty thought, every way of taking JR in his mind. JR stood before him, willing but defiant, so very achingly beautiful that for a moment Apolo regretted he hadn't given in before to taking him, to worshipping that lovely body and tenderly showing him all the pleasure he could, because this could not be tender, it was too fierce, too raw for tender, and that long-limbed beauty might end up marked and debauched and bittersweet rather than simply sweet, but now he couldn't wait any longer.

JR stood waiting for his decision, and with the speed that made him famous and none of the grace that made him popular, Apolo grabbed him and pulled him forward, flush against him. JR let out a startled puff of air, but before he could inhale again, Apolo's mouth was on his. His lips were soft but demanding, sucking at his upper lip as Apolo's soul patch set his bottom lip tingling, and Apolo's tongue was in his mouth, running firmly over his teeth, his palate, the soft underside of his tongue, as if wanting to know and touch and feel JR inside and out. He was feeling him outside too. Apolo had initially grabbed JR by his upper arms, but had slid his hands up to JR's neck and around the back of his head, not so much cradling it as holding on to the silky hair for dear life, fingers gripping almost painfully while his thumbs made motions that might have been soothing if the whole thing hadn't felt so life and death. And at the same time, all of Apolo's heightened desire was coursing through him. JR felt like he was in a riptide, being sucked under, barely aware of himself, drowning in this torrent of Apolo's need. He caught a flicker in Apolo's awareness and pushed away, breaking the connection, and leaving some of his hair in Apolo's hands. Apolo looked wild. His face was flushed, his chest was heaving and his eyes were primal. He also looked like he might lunge for JR at any second.

JR backed away. "I want this, I said yes, but not on the table. Come to my room." JR turned, knowing Apolo would follow, and also knew that Apolo's need was so great that once they touched again, there would be no relocation. In almost an instant, they were in the bedroom. "Take off your clothes and get on the bed." Apolo demanded, as he pulled off his own shirt. JR complied, removing his own shirt and pushing his pants down over his hips and kicking them off. He glanced up and saw Apolo was staring at him hungrily. All of the sudden he felt like this was something far beyond his ken. He was naked, growing harder by the second, a blushing close-to-virgin teenager in front of a man who was under the influence of God only knew what and who seemed almost inhuman at that moment—he was putting himself into the power of this man. Apolo's gaze broke away as he kicked off his shoes, and pulled off his pants and socks, and then all of JR's fears were wiped away as Apolo joined him on the bed. When they touched again, JR fought the flood, and realized it was possible to keep Apolo mostly out of his head, enough to stay aware and in control of himself. Apolo began kissing him again, but this time instead of anchoring his hands in JR's hair, his hands seemed to be everywhere, urging JR's arms up above his head, running up and down his torso, firmly stroking his side from shoulder to hip, down his thigh as far as Apolo could reach while still kissing him. Then Apolo's mouth moved away from his own and moved to his jaw, licking and sucking there, and he couldn't help but tilt his head back to urge Apolo to kiss his neck. Apolo took the invitation, sucking and biting at his neck in a way that was incredibly arousing but very nearly terrifying, making JR squirm uncontrollably, while he paid no heed to his gasping.

JR felt like his arms were flailing wildly, so he finally settled on putting one in Apolo's hair, twisting a few curls around his fingers and the other wrapping around to Apolo's right side, resting there. The whole experience already felt like too much. Apolo's mouth on his neck, one hand rubbing across his tattoo and then pinching and twisting his nipple, and GOD Apolo's groin, damp against his leg, the roughness of his pubic hair a contrast to the smooth firmness of his cock. He didn't even feel like he could respond, he felt like he would be lucky to survive. Apolo moved to his collar bone, scraping his teeth along it making JR buck. "FUCK Apolo" he managed to get out as the mouth moved again, to his right nipple where Apolo's tongue flicked at the nub before nibbling at it. Finally Apolo came up for air, meeting JR's eyes as he ran both of his hands over his chest. "JR. I want you so badly, I can't even think straight, I don't know where to start. I want to touch all of you" at this he move his hands to JR's knees and raked them upward, making JR hiss as Apolo's hand went over his scar "I want to bite you and mark you and holy shit do I want to fuck you." He really did look lost and JR felt some of his control, his strength return. He nudged Apolo over, and pushed him into sitting rather than lying on the bed, before straddling him. "Ok" he said, putting Apolo's hands on the crease where his hips and thighs met, "start here and then move them. If you need to bite me, bite me, if you leave marks, you leave marks. I know you don't think this is you, but you're still Apolo, and I still trust you."

Apolo's thumbs tightened against the bones of his hips and he nodded back at JR. And this time it was JR who initiated the kiss.

 

Evan had no idea where to begin. "Well. It's sexual. I mean, I think it's mainly sexual. I just can't stop thinking about how you would touch me, what you would do, how you would act. But I don't know if it's just sexual, because part of that is that I have no idea how you would act, because you never seem like just one person, like I can imagine you being gentle and I can imagine you raking your nails down my back, and I can imagine you wanting to look at me while you fuck me and I can imagine you refusing to face me. I get so turned on by the idea of you wanting me and possessing me I can hardly breath" and honestly, at this point his breath was coming a little short, "and then I think, fuck, I don't even know if he tops. I mean, how can I be obsessed with having sex with you when I don't even know any of this?"

To Johnny's eyes, Evan looked frighteningly sincere. His eyes were beseeching, and for the first time in memory, he wasn't wearing clothes with huge logos on them. He looked like a confused man rather than a hero, he looked human rather than poised. To Evan, Johnny looked a bit pink-cheeked, like his fantasy come to life, sitting there wrapped in a robe (was he even wearing anything underneath? GOD.) all imperious but not impervious to Evan's speech. Evan licked his lips. Johnny suddenly realized that Evan must be expecting some kind of response.

"Well. I can't say I've had this interesting of a proposition in a long time" he began—not that he'd had any real propositions in a long time given that he was pretty sure Galina could tell if he had so much as a wet dream; and come to think of it, he and Evan might be as different as night and day, but he bet figure skating coaches weren't all that different on the issue of sex, and Evan probably hadn't gotten laid in a while either—"but I'm not really sure how this is my problem, or what you expect me to do about it." He was perversely pleased with his own cruelty. Evan's speech about how he pictured Johnny dominating him, was turned on by the thought of Johnny's nails and cock pressed into him was more than a little arousing, especially given the oh-so-earnest delivery. Johnny could hardly believe that Evan Lysacek, who was so well heeled that he probably asked permission to go shit, was in Johnny's rooms definitely without anyone's knowledge, about to beg to be fucked. And Johnny was making him beg.

Evan's heart was beating wildly now. If Johnny hadn't kicked him out by now, he either was going to do it or was waiting until the most humiliating possible moment to say no He could see by Johnny's small shifts and color that he was getting turned on by this, by Evan's complete ineptitude and helplessness here. Wasn't that what he had been craving? Johnny in control? This was the defining moment, either he submitted to Johnny in this petty way (and Johnny was a petty bitch about so many things anyway), and find out if Johnny would fuck this twisted desire out of him, or he would refuse to come out and ask for it, Johnny would show him the door and his dignity would be intact. Right? Was there dignity in asking this waif for sex? In asking a career-defining rival to give him something he was desperate for? Or were they just two men with desires? Could Evan do this and still be himself? It was a ridiculous question. He didn't know who the fuck he was, he only knew that the Evan he was selling to the media and world would never do this. But he would.

Evan's face had that kind of dopey expression he seemed to favor, but Johnny could tell he was making his decision of whether or not to hand the reins to Johnny and let this happen. Johnny himself couldn't believe that he found it so appealing. Evan had always seemed the personification of things Johnny didn't like—consistently playing to stereotype, hell making his own stereotype just so he could play to it, constantly canned speech, studied rather than artless skating, always so perfectly toeing the line. And while there was some pleasure in the thought of being in control of that always-in-control man, the man in front of him seemed more real than that, as if this ordeal were burning through the falseness, leaving something more real. Or maybe it was backwards, because Evan said the desire was false, but his presence here, deciding to come to Johnny about it was real.

"I think I need you to have sex with me." Evan finally said. "I mean, would you be willing to try it? I doubt I'm your type, but I think you could help me, and I don't think I can go on like this."

If Johnny had been in Evan's place, asking him for sex, he probably would have tried to be sultry, coquettish, desirable. Evan didn't seem to even think of that kind of display, just this raw invitation. Johnny wondered if this kind of honesty would continue in bed, if every movement and noise Evan made would be this unschooled, and whether that would be flattering or horrible. Well, he was about to find out.

"Okay. I'll do it." Johnny said, and Evan immediately looked both relieved and tense. "Is there anything you want to tell me? Something you absolutely wouldn't do, something from these….visions you think would be particularly helpful to get rid of this….thing?"

Evan shook his head no, and Johnny could see that he was practically vibrating with tension, like a high strung horse.

"Well. Why don't you follow me to the bedroom." Johnny sashayed down to his room and went to the far side of the bed (neatly made) and say on it, while Evan followed and stood in the doorway. Johnny let his robe slide off, leaving him naked. Evan seemed unable to move, so he stood up and walked toward him. Evan's breathing was noticeably faster. Johnny stood in front of him, tight, taut muscle wrapped around a thin frame and Evan couldn't move. He took it in but didn't know what to do. Kissing him seemed too personal, but that was the only way he knew how to start sex. So he just stared at Johnny, who now seemed incongruously tender as he raised a hand to Evan's cheek. His fingertips barely brushed against Evan's stubble and they both gasped.

If Johnny had doubted Evan's story before (he hadn't, I mean, as implausible as it seemed, it wasn't like anything short of a cursed/magic medal would make Evan come to him for sex) the moment he touched Evan and saw what he had been laboring to describe, he was certain this was something beyond them. For a moment he cursed Evan's inarticulacy, because this was haunting and crazy and beautiful and well, maybe it was indescribable, but God it was hot, seeing himself through Evan's eyes, seeing what exactly it was Evan wanted. The touch had been meant to reassure Evan but instead it was like touching a live wire and instead of calming it sent them into a frenzy. Johnny whipped his hand down and grabbed the center of Evan's t-shirt instead.

"Take off your clothes and get in bed." Johnny demanded, before going to his bag to pull out some lube and a bottle of water. He gulped down some water, eyes on Evan, and the play of muscles across his abs as he wrenched his shirt over his head, then sat to take off shoes and pants. Johnny waited until Evan was naked, sitting on the side of the bed, waiting for him before going back to him.

"Have you ever sucked a cock before?" Johnny was standing right in front of Evan, knees almost touching.

"N-no." Evan replied, his eyes huge as he looked up at Johnny.

"It's easy. Think about what you like, then try to do it to me."

Evan didn't move for a second, as if slightly unable to comprehend what was going on, but then his eyes moved from Johnny's perfect pointy face to his cock, obviously already getting hard, rising from an impossibly groomed patch of pubic hair, and licked his lips before placing his hands on Johnny's hips for support and sliding to his knees.

~~~~~

Apolo could not believe this was happening. It seemed both too good to be true, and absolutely natural to be like this, underneath JR, taking in his perfect body, mouth inches from his chest and neck, a head tilt away from those goregeous lips, his hands freely roaming over JR's back and thighs and ass, then forward to lightly touch the boy's cock, while his own rubbed against that perfect ass. JR's eyes were closed and he squirmed above Apolo, fluidly moving with and against Apolo's touches, hands on Apolo's shoulders, keeping them both stable so that Apolo could do what he wanted. His hands tightened as bit his way from the forearm closest to him up his arm, then slid a hand up his back to urge him to lean closer. He obediently moved his face closer to Apolo's, which was now biting up his bicep and to his shoulder. Apolo's hands moved down again, resting on his ass, which in this awkward position seemed very exposed, and Apolo started to separate the cheeks, whispering breathily in JR's ear.

"Right now I'm going to start preparing your ass because I have to fuck you and I can't wait much longer. I'm going to use my fingers until you are begging me for more, and then I am going to flip you over and eat you out so that when I fuck you as hard as I can, all you will feel is pleasure." JR shuddered at Apolo's words, and at the fingers that were now rubbing over the opening to his ass, which seemed to understand that shuddering was the order of the day, because it also was quivering under Apolo's touch, wet with sweat.

Later, JR would wonder how he had enough brain to think about anything besides Apolo underneath him, but with a flash of brilliance, he spotted the lotion on his bedside table that he was supposed to rub onto his scar, and reached away from Apolo long enough to grab it and give it to the other man, who squeezed a line of it down JR's scar, the cold a shock to his feverishly hot skin. Then Apolo swiped some of it with his finger tips and rubbed them together to warm it before going back to JR's ass. This time a fingertip began to press in, just the tip, in and out. JR wasn't really sure this was supposed to be as erotic as it felt. But whenever he opened his eyes and saw Apolo's intent brown eyes drinking in his expression he felt doubly exposed, as if Apolo could enter him everywhere and see through him. He couldn't take that much, and shut his eyes again, concentrating on just the feeling of Apolo's fingers—now there were two. Every time Apolo removed them to wipe more of the lotion from JR's leg to his fingers, JR felt bereft, then when they returned stretched, pushed beyond what he had felt before. The fingers were moving in and out, twisting, exploring, KILLING him, and then suddenly Apolo hit the money spot and JR yelped and ground against him, his thumbs digging painfully into the soft spot between Apolo's neck and clavicle.

Apolo had been remarkably methodical for this part, considering how possessed he had been earlier, but JR's reaction seemed to spark the crazy again, because all of the sudden, JR was on his back, legs splayed, with Apolo's fingers driving into him almost-painfully, really thrusting, and Apolo's mouth kissing and biting his chest and stomach wherever it landed. Really, this wasn't even pleasurable, but it was so intense it seemed to go beyond pleasure to something more basic, more direct than pleasing touches to surviving a natural disaster together, to riding out a storm. Then Apolo pulled his fingers out and pushed JR's hip, urging him to turn over, then pulling on his hips so he was on his hands and knees, now not only exposed but unable to see Apolo behind him, simply feel him as he nudged his knees further apart, ran one hand firmly down his back like he was petting a cat, and the other hand quickly gave some attention to his cock and balls, a few swift fondles.

Then Apolo's hands went back to spreading his ass and then instead of Apolo's fingers, it was his mouth and JR wasn't sure he could think anymore, not with this invasion of Apolo's lips and tongue, and GOD Apolo's soul patch was driving him CRAZY rubbing against the spot behind his balls. He wanted to touch himself so badly, but knew that moving a hand would set them off balance, and his need for Apolo to keep going overruled his need to have anything else.

Apolo hadn't considered rimming before this obsession. He hadn't thought it sounded all that pleasurable or all that sanitary, but he had wanted to take JR so badly, wanted to touch and lick him everywhere, and he hadn't known how badly he wanted to do this until he had seen the look on JR's face, the responsiveness of his entire body just to Apolo's fingers and then had known that his mouth could do better, could make JR make MORE of these soft noises, could make him needier, and now that he was doing it, it didn't seem that unsanitary (maybe because he could only taste sweat and medicinal lotion) either but he wasn't sure how much longer he could wait to fuck JR. He felt like anything could make him come but he wanted to draw this out, this intense connection between them.

Placing a last kiss on JR's lower back, he spoke. "JR, scoot up, brace your hands against the wall." JR quickly complied getting more upright, and Apolo scooted up right behind him, wrapping an arm around his chest, and putting his chin over his shoulder, while using his other hand to position his cock at JR's entrance. "Ready?" he breathed and JR turned his head to look him in the eye, both of their faces sweaty and flushed, and nodded, his mouth open. Squeezing the base of his cock in hopes to last longer, Apolo pushed in, murmuring nonsense to JR, and petting his chest and stomach as he eased in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Johnny was pretty sure that he had seen hotter things in his life than Evan Lysacek naked on his knees in front of him, but right now with Evan's red lips around his cock, his eyes searching Johnny's and his delicate jaw working, Johnny couldn't even imagine anything hotter. The blow job wasn't at all expert, but it matched the awkwardness and reality that had characterized this encounter so far and he could feel already Evan seemed to be more sure of this whole thing, how much more eager he was to put the images torturing him into real life. Johnny had let Evan set the pace but suddenly wanted more than what Evan was giving, he wanted to just take. "Relax your jaw, cover your teeth with your lips, and breath through your nose. I'm going to fuck your face, then get you on the bed and fuck you, okay?"

Evan's eyes widened even further, and he pulled his mouth off Johnny's cock, licked his bright red lips, swallowed (or gulped, more like) before nodding and following instructions, bringing Johnny's cock back to his mouth.

He enjoyed blow jobs and had known girls and guys who had said they enjoyed giving them, but had always felt a bit lost going down on a girl, and before the debacle with that stupid medal, he never would have thought he would enjoy this. But as Johnny's slender fingers locked into his hair and he began to thrust so that the only thing Evan could see or smell or taste was Johnny, he felt like he could understand a bit better. Johnny was in control, but the kind that just meant he did what came to him, not that he had a plan. And while demanding, he also was giving Evan room. Which he now needed, as it became too much and he really couldn't breathe anymore. He pulled away gasping for breath before giving Johnny's cock one more long suck, and using his hands on Johnny's hips to pull himself up, and scramble onto the bed.

Johnny looked beautifully pink, glowing, his eyes strangely bright, his body seemed too thin to contain the strength Evan knew lay within, too small to draw these feelings out of Evan. He felt—he was—out of control. He had both wanted this and not known what it would be like, and being here with Johnny was so far outside his comfort zone it was ridiculous. Evan lay back against the pillows (how many fucking pillows did Johnny sleep with?) catching his breath and staring at Johnny, who appeared to be doing the same. With the same fluid delicacy that had made him famous, Johnny moved to the bed, sitting with his legs tucked beside him next to Evan, caressing his chest with just his nails, letting the tips drag along Evan's smooth skin. He could feel the craving for more in Evan, but this wasn't hate sex, and they didn't know each other's bodies that well (okay, so they probably both knew every muscle, every injury, on the other's body but that wasn't the same) and Johnny knew that whatever Evan was wanting it was raw, rough, and with anyone but a finely tuned athletic machine, Johnny would probably just give it to him, but Evan's body was a thing of perfection.

He looked straight at Evan with his piercing eyes. "Are you sure you want this? This is your last chance to back out." He knew Evan wouldn't, that he was being driven by whatever was sending the lust coursing through him, but he still wanted the reassurance.

Evan put a hand on Johnny's thigh, sending that cascade of fantasies through him again, and said "yes, I'm sure. I'm not turning back." With that, he pulled Johnny toward him and they kissed. It surprised them both that the kiss, while passionate, was not hard or hateful, or even particularly rough, it just was a seal of some kind of trust, that they were in this together, that they were doing their best to make this happen. Evan moaned as Johnny bit at the corner of his mouth and moved his hands around Johnny. Or rather he tried to, but Johnny grabbed his wrists like his hands were pincers, and pushed them over Evan's head. He moved to straddle Evan, holding Evan's hands pinned in one hand.

"No. I'm doing what I want to you, not what you want. You are not in control. I am in charge, and I will use you how I want." Johnny's eyes looked hard, his grip was steely, and with Johnny hovering over his uncovered, unprotected body, Evan was suddenly thrilled by the feeling of exposure. Johnny's eyes raked over his body, then suddenly he had let go of Evan's wrists and in a parody of the light touch of his nailtips earlier, he followed his eyes with his nails, digging into Evan's skin from collar to groin, catching his right nipple, over his tattoo, ending by painfully pushing Evan's legs apart so that Johnny can sit between them. Evan hissed at the sudden pain, but realized it still made him harder, it was making his whole body more sensitive, more on edge to not know what was happening, to not know if Johnny was going to be giving him pain or pleasure. As if to make his point, Johnny scooted down the bed to put his face at Evan's waist. Without bothering to even look at Evan, he started licking his cock, lapping the precome, masterfully handling his balls. Without thinking about it, Evan's hands threaded into Johnny's silky curls, but not for long. Johnny whipped his head out then bit Evan's inner thigh HARD, making Evan shout "FUCK Johnny, that hurt!"

"I told you not to touch me. That's your warning." Johnny ran his fingers over the mark he had just made, then kissed it. "I trust you'll remember now?" Evan nodded, and decided to grab the comforter at his sides to keep his hands busy.

As if nothing had happened, Johnny went back to licking and sucking his cock, not taking it in his mouth, just running his lips and tongue and teeth along and around it. Then without warning Johnny really went down on him while at the same time pushing two fingers into him, making him arch backwards at the sudden painful intrusion. But that movement sent his cock deeper into Johnny's mouth, which seemed to make the pain go away. Then Johnny's fingers began slowly moving and maneuvering so that everything felt good. Johnny added more lube to his fingers and slid them back in with little resistance. He switched to teabagging Evan's balls for a moment before coming back to suckle the head of Evan's cock. The fingers in Evan's ass had been wiggling around seemingly at random, but all of the sudden Evan realized the wiggling had not been random as they sparked some kind of pleasure he had never felt, and combined with Johnny's hot mouth, and the fact that he had been hard for DAYS, he started to come. Johnny moved slightly back in surprise, only for Evan to come all over his face.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
As he pushed into JR, he could feel JR bearing down, but also how his sphincter was fluttering trying to understand the intrusion, tiny movements that felt amazing on Apolo's cock. He continued petting JR's chest and stomach, murmuring how good his ass felt, how unreal it was to have this gorgeous body under his hands, how he wanted to hold him like this forever, pressing his chest against JR's back, arms wrapped around him, cock inside him. He felt like they couldn't possibly be more intimately joined without climbing into each other's skin. When he was as deep as he could be in this position, he let out a deep breath and kissed the back of JR's neck. Running his palms up and down the planes of JR's body a few times, he moved one hand to JR's hip and the other to loosely grasp his cock. Then he pulled out and began to thrust with long, deep strokes.

JR was basically in sensory overload. His arms were shaking with the effort of staying firmly upright enough to fully meet Apolo's thrusts, each of which also pushed his own cock into Apolo's hand. He just felt on fire, or like he was a fire, and Apolo was part of it, sending sparks flying higher with every shuddering move until JR really could take it no more. He dropped his arms and head forward, and Apolo reacted instantly, moving his arm to wrap around his chest tightly, and tightening around his cock. With the feeling that nothing could be better than this feeling, of Apolo in and around him, supporting him, JR came in jerks over Apolo's hands. His orgasm made his ass start contracting around Apolo who followed him after another few strokes. They both collapsed, still spooning, and Apolo wiped JR off with the nearest corner of sheet before falling asleep, curled possessively around him.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Johnny looked shocked for only the briefest moment before calming his face again. He looked at Evan who was breathing hard, pupils huge, a sheen of sweat all over his body, stinging in the places where Johnny had broken the skin.

"Lick it off." Johnny said in an even voice. Evan didn't seem to understand for a moment and then as Johnny made no move to wipe his face, Evan got it. He leaned forward hesitantly, then realized Johnny wasn't moving an inch, and scooted closer until Johnny was pressed against him and began to tentatively swipe at his face. He knew what his own come tasted like, but with the combination of Johnny's sweat and whatever the fuck he put on his face, it was better, and as Evan continued licking, Johnny made the smallest concession by tilting his face at different angles to help Evan along. After a few moments Johnny's face looked cleaner, if not free of all of Evan's bodily fluids.

"Well, I think that proves the stretching wasn't painful anymore." Johnny drawls, and then pushes Evan back again and positions himself over Evan, pushing Evan's legs up towards his chest. Evan's eyes are wide, and Johnny realizes he has no idea what to expect. He has a fleeting reassure Evan, but instead pushes himself in with one fast, hard thrust that makes Evan hiss outloud. Johnny knows this isn't going to last much longer, Evan is incredibly tight, and there on his back, with an expression of shocked pleasure on his face, while Johnny digs one hand like a claw up and down his leg and the other against his chest, and he just looks incredible, a mix of tan and red, with dustings of black hair and the glint of his cross at his neck. He seems to overcome his shock enough to realize he needs to push back and then they were really fucking, and then with Evan panting out his name, Johnny came inside him.

~~~~~~~~~~  
When Apolo woke up, he was still snuggled up tight to JR, who was sound asleep. Amazing, JR asleep in his arms, looking even younger asleep than awake. He felt a rush of affection for the younger man, and dropped a kiss on his shoulder before closing his eyes again. Then they shot back open. "JR! JR!" Apolo shook JR out of his sleep, and JR turned towards him blinking sleepily. "It worked! I'm better!" Apolo's eyes were bright with excitement. JR looked uncertain. "Umm. Good?" he said scratchily in reply, "Does that mean you want to go back to your room?"

Apolo stared at him for a second before answering. "No! I mean, not if you don't want me to leave. The compulsion, the freaky attraction is gone. The rest…it's still there."

JR smiled, a wide sleepy grin. "Good. Stay. And maybe after this nap we can actually get some breakfast and celebrate for real."

Apolo smiled back, tucked JR back against his chest and said "Yeah. That sounds good."

~~~~~~~~~~  
When Evan woke up he felt gross. After the sex, Johnny had disentangled himself to go take a shower and told Evan he could go next, but Evan had fallen asleep where he was and obviously Johnny hadn't bothered to wake him. Johnny wasn't in bed with him—and why should he be, it was the fucking middle of the morning—but he wasn't sure what to do. Should he take a shower here? Just get back to his own rooms and shower there? Find Johnny first? He opted for a quick shower, just a rinse—or he thought that sounded good until he tried to move. FUCK Johnny hadn't been kidding. He was used to being pretty much perpetually hurt and injured, but not in these places. He winced then made it to the bathroom across the hall and got in the shower. There were a million bottles, none of them in English and finally he just took one and poured it on the shower pouf and was grateful it formed a lather. He toweled off and wrapped it around his waist as he went to find his clothes. As he shrugged them back on, he wondered what he was going to say to Johnny. That this had been insane? Good? Weird? He would like to try it again without the bizarre urge to have Johnny be so rough? Would Johnny even want to see him again? Had he really done this just to help and never wanted to see Evan again? Fuck, did Evan want to see Johnny again? Why? If he wanted sex from anyone, well, he was a fucking gold medalist, he would probably get it.

And yet. Those people wanted that other Evan, the one who smiled and politely stayed on point, the poised Olympian. And now he had done something crazy, had seen something in himself that he never expected, and he didn't want to go back to being alone in LA, that fake city. He wanted to explore….fuck he wanted things that had nothing to do with skating. That was new.

Evan wandered out to the living room, where he found Johnny looking immaculate and sipping tea while reading Vogue. He didn't look up until Evan sat across from him again and spoke. "Um. I feel much better. I think my head is normal again."

"Well, glad to help. Next time I imbibe an unknown substance with bizarre effects, I'll know who owes me a favor." Johnny replied before turning back to the magazine.

Damn, that was not a moment of bonding. "Just…Thanks. I mean, thanks for helping me and you couldn't know it, but just being you….it's helped me in other ways too."

Johnny cocked his head to the side. "well, the pleasure was mine." He even smirked as he said it. "And you know I'll always be me."

"yeah, well. I haven't always been me. I'm not sure I've ever been me. But I want to try. And maybe…maybe I could call you sometime? Not for sex. I mean, not unless you wanted sex and I wanted sex, or fuck. Just. To talk." It was pathetic that he was stuttering things out almost as badly as this morning.

Johnny looked thoughtfully at him and nodded. "Yeah. You could call me. If you're ever on the east coast, let me know." He flashed the beautiful smile that charmed audiences everywhere. "I might like getting to know you."


End file.
